


Distractions

by Moonfreckle (Sunfreckle)



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Nonbinary Grantaire, Other, Smut, Smut Without Bias, Softcore Porn, Trans Enjolras
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-29
Updated: 2017-12-29
Packaged: 2019-02-23 12:51:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13190469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sunfreckle/pseuds/Moonfreckle
Summary: Grantaire knows that between the two of them he’s not the one with the impulse control, but Enjolras isdefinitelydoing this on purpose and he’s not going to be played that easily. Even if his boyfriend has learned how to push his buttons remarkably well...Sweet, fluffy smut and nothing else <3





	Distractions

**Author's Note:**

> More ‘smut without bias’ where I leave the physical makeup of the characters up to the reader. All I'll say is that this Enjolras is a trans man and Grantaire is nonbinary (he/they).
> 
> (That means that these are _not_ my regular Enj and R from Modern Means Less Miserable. My regular Enj just isn’t into this sort of stuff and that’s important to me.)
> 
> Also, I blame Débora for this, entirely. I take no responsibility whatsoever this time.  
> That being said, I hope you enjoy this and excuse my blushing. <3

One of the things Grantaire will probably never fully understand, is how Enjolras is capable of shutting out the world while he works. Grantaire had already been watching tv when Enjolras joined him on the couch with his notepad and tablet and he would have at least turned the volume down and switched to subtitles, had it not been for Enjolras absentmindedly waving his hand and saying:

“It’s fine, doesn’t bother me, really.”

And Grantaire’s tv show really doesn’t seem to have distracted him from his work at all. Ironically, having Enjolras beside him _has_ distracted Grantaire from his tv show. At least a little. The way Enjolras keeps switching between his tablet to look things up and his notepad to write things down baffles and amuses Grantaire. Plus, he just likes watching Enjolras in his more casual moments. It’s not exactly a novelty anymore by now, but to Grantaire it will never lose its charm.

There is a rhythm to the movements of Enjolras’ eyes gliding swiftly past the lines of text and the scratching of his pen on the paper. It’s punctuated by his fingers tapping on the screen or turning a page and it goes on and on and on.

Until the rhythm falters.

Even with half his attention on the tv Grantaire notices it. Enjolras slows down. Every now and then there is a discontented exhale of breath and the pen crosses out almost as much as it writes now.

Grantaire looks up at Enjolras, wondering if this is one of the times that he should intervene or one of the times that he should _not_.

Before he can decide, Enjolras puts the tablet down, leaning it against his knees so he can keep reading and, without looking up from his article, he reaches up and pulls the hair tie out of his long hair. Grantaire watches the messy golden locks tumble down the back of Enjolras’ neck and past his face. The number of times Grantaire has watched him do this from across the Musain, nearly biting his lip and trying not to stare, is downright embarrassing. Not that he cares though, not anymore.

Enjolras pulls his hair up again, twisting it into a messy bun and…taking a little too long doing it. Grantaire’s eyes, that had been fixed on the curve of Enjolras’ neck now it’s exposed once more, flit to his face. In the corner of Enjolras’ mouth there is just the hint of a smile. His eyes are no longer moving past the lines of his article.

Grantaire leans back a little. He knows that between the two of them he’s not the one with the impulse control, but Enjolras is _definitely_ doing this on purpose and he’s not going to be played that easily. Even if his boyfriend has learned how to push his buttons remarkably well.

“Tv bothering you after all?” he hums nonchalantly.

There’s a quick glance sideways as Enjolras fixes his hair. “No,” he says, lowering his hands reluctantly.

“Sure?” Grantaire asks innocently and he presses the mute button on the remote.

The shift in Enjolras’ demeanour is _very_ noticeable. He smiles at Grantaire, slanting his head a little. “I rather thought I was distracting you…”

It takes Grantaire considerable effort to keep himself from showing how much of an effect Enjolras is having on him already. With barely more than a damn _smile_ even. But he manages. “I thought you had research to finish?” he says.

Enjolras looks at him. There’s a dissatisfied look behind the inviting glint in his eyes. He knows he has to work. He just doesn’t want to and that is _very_ hard for him to admit. “Yeah…” he sighs.

The frustration on Enjolras’ face is more than enough triumph for Grantaire, it’s not like he _actually_ wants to win. Grantaire smirks. Besides, Enjolras’ work ethic might very well be the death of him one day if no one helps him with it. “Pity…” he coaxes, reaching out and brushing past the edge of Enjolras’ jaw with his fingers. “How much left to do still?”

“Two more articles…” Enjolras says reluctantly, gaze shifting between Grantaire’s mouth and his eyes.

“How many have you done?” Grantaire asks. The answer doesn’t really matter, _his_ answer is going to be the same either way.

“Four…” Enjolras replies.

Grantaire leans forward, smiling just enough to make Enjolras look at his mouth again. “Surely it’s time for a break then,” he mutters.

Enjolras looks genuinely conflicted, but Grantaire feels fully justified in his actions. _Enjolras_ started this time, not him. And what good is it being the slacker boyfriend if you don’t get to be a bad influence every once in a while?

He grins. “Tell you what,” he coaxes. “One kiss to clear your mind… Just to let you get back to reading with a fresh perspective-”

He tilts his head towards Enjolras just a little and for a moment he enjoys the frantic hesitation on Enjolras’ face. No matter how badly he wants to kiss or be kissed, Enjolras almost always waits for Grantaire to initiate. Grantaire doesn’t mind. Not at all.

With a movement that is sudden enough to take Enjolras at least a little by surprise he presses his mouth against his and grabs a handful of his shirt for good measure. Grantaire has stopped counting kisses, but it doesn’t matter if this is the so manyeth time, Enjolras still tastes like stolen sweets. He is also, at this particular moment, moaning into Grantaire’s mouth.

Grantaire pulls away, smirking slightly at the breathless way Enjolras moves his lips and hums: “What was that?”

Enjolras shakes his head and swallows. “Nothing.”

With a grin Grantaire leans into him again and he chuckles when Enjolras eagerly pulls him closer. Grantaire blindly feels around for Enjolras’ tablet that’s nearly slid between the couch cushions, and makes sure it is safely on the floor before pushing Enjolras back and pinning him against the couch. Grantaire’s knees are planted on either side of Enjolras’ legs now and he feels Enjolras’ arms wrap around his torso in an attempt to pull him on top of him. Instead of giving in, Grantaire reaches back, catches Enjolras’ wrists and traps his arms above his head by planting them against the armrest of the couch. Enjolras looks up at him with a flushed face, panting slightly from the abruptly ended kiss.

“Cleared your mind yet?” Grantaire asks with a grin.

“Yes?” Enjolras pants, eyes fixed on Grantaire with a slightly dazed look.

“I’m not convinced,” Grantaire smirks and now he does lower himself fully on top of Enjolras, pressing his hips against his and kissing him hard enough to make Enjolras let his head drop back against the couch pillow. Grantaire lets go of Enjolras’ wrists and his boyfriend’s hand are immediately grabbing at his back again. He holds on to Grantaire and makes a muffled sound that makes Grantaire kiss him even harder. Any involuntary noise escaping from Enjolras’ mouth is like a shot of fire in his veins. The fact that Enjolras always tries to keep quiet and usually succeeds is one of the tragedies of Grantaire’s life.

He pulls away, leaving Enjolras gasping for air, and buries his face in his neck. One of Enjolras’ recently freed hands is instantly in Grantaire’s hair, wordlessly begging for things Grantaire is more than willing to give. He presses a salvo of kisses to Enjolras neck, creeping down and sideways to his throat, but the sighs escaping Enjolras make Grantaire hastily return to his mouth. He just sees a glimpse of the dazed look in Enjolras’ eyes before he tastes him again. Grantaire deepens the kiss immediately and reaches blindly until he has found the nape of Enjolras’ neck. Before he has even applied any real pressure he feels Enjolras’ back arch underneath him. Being clothed is becoming increasingly annoying, but that will have to wait. Grantaire kisses Enjolras until he feels the vibration of moans in his mouth. Eagerly Grantaire breaks away to hear those sounds out loud and quickly fastens his lips onto Enjolras’ neck instead. As soon as he does Enjolras swallows his moans in a sharp intake of breath and goes quiet again.

Grantaire lets out a groaning laugh. _God_ , Enjolras and his damn self-control.

“Let me _hear_ ,” he mutters hotly, pressing kisses down Enjolras’ neck towards his collarbone.

“What?” Enjolras pants confusedly and his voice, almost breathless and heavy with want, sets off sparks along Grantaire’s spine.

“You,” he growls and he slides his hand into Enjolras’ hair. He gives a gentle, but sudden tug and Enjolras gasps, tilting his head back. “ _That_ ,” Grantaire breathes eagerly. “I want more of that.”

“But w-” Ejolras begins, sounding a little more like his usual self, but Grantaire let his teeth graze against the curve of Enjolra’s shoulder and he shudders. “Ok,” he whines. “Ok I’ll- _ah_.” His exclamation turns to a groan as Grantaire sinks his teeth into the juncture between Enjolras’ neck and shoulder and when Grantaire bites harder he does not try to swallow the sounds.

Eagerly Grantaire twists his fingers into Enjolras’ hair and pulls his head firmly to the side.

Enjolras _keens_.

There’s hardly anything Grantaire likes more than taking his time with Enjolras’, but he can’t take this. Hastily he lifts his hips and works his other hand down in between them so he can undo Enjolras’ jeans. Instead of protesting Enjolras tries lifting his hips to help, making a sound that is so eager that Grantaire lets out a groan himself. He tries to shift his weight off Enjolras, but looking up into his flushed face makes him lose his train of thought. Enjolras’ blue eyes are darkened with something wild and instead of moving, Grantaire grabs his face with both his hands and kisses hard on the mouth.

Enjolras kisses back furiously and slips his hands under the fabric of Grantaire’s shirt. Grantaire grinds against him in response, but the muffled little sounds Enjolras is making remind Grantaire of what he needed to do. With a last, feverish deepening of the kiss he pulls away and gets off Enjolras and the couch, hastily pulling off his boyfriend’s jeans and underwear. He flicks open the top button of his own jeans but only to give himself more freedom of movement, he has no time to undress. Without being asked Enjolras spreads his legs, but before Grantaire can plant his knees in between them he breathes:

“Please take your shirt off- Please.”

It’s not begging, Enjolras is only asking, but it’s enough to make Grantaire look down at him where he’s lying on the couch, slightly pushed up on his elbows, with complete wonder. He’s _beautiful_.

Abruptly Grantaire pulls his shirt over his head and tosses it aside. “Anything else?” he asks hotly.

Enjolras shakes his head breathlessly and a moment later Grantaire is crouching between his legs, sliding his hands up Enjolras’ bare thighs and dipping his head down in a single movement. Enjolras tenses up in a way that is by now intoxicatingly familiar to Grantaire. He breathes in against Enjolras’ skin and everything goes quiet. Grantaire is wrapped in Enjolras’ scent and warmth and as he opens his mouth he can taste him on his tongue…but he cannot even hear him breathe and for a moment Grantaire thinks that Enjolras has forgotten to fight his urge to be quiet. But then a choked moan rings in his ears and Grantaire can’t resist lifting his head to see the involuntary movement of Enjolras’ lips.

Immediately the blue eyes are fixed on him again. Dazed and feverish.

Grantaire swallows thickly. “Loosen your hair for me?” He can’t look at Enjolras and go down on him at the same time but when he gets back up he wants to see his hair spread out like the glorious messy halo he knows it can be.

Enjolras frowns with impatience and Grantaire chuckles. “Please?” he teases and he slips a hand between Enjolras’ thighs, teasingly touching all the places where his mouth will be soon.

With a frantic noise that makes Grantaire grin even wider Enjolras grabs into his hair and tears the hair tie from it with a sharp tug.

Grantaire allows himself a second to see the blonde curls go flying and then he ducks down between Enjolras’ legs and let’s his tongue follow the path that his fingers just mapped out.

“ _Oh_ \- How do you do that-” Enjolras slurs and Grantaire hums amusedly, trying a little harder still.

To his delight Enjolras keeps talking, his sentences becoming more and more disjointed and increasingly punctuated with a sort of choked cries that Grantaire is _wild_ to hear the unrestrained version of. He’s too busy listening and moving to notice Enjolras’ hand until it is grabbing his curls. Grantaire groans in approval and keeps going, his own hands pressing down on Enjolras’ thighs to keep him in place.

Enjolras’ words lost all coherence a while ago so it takes Grantaire a moment to realize he’s actually trying to say something. When the third breathy “Taire” is accompanied by a tug on his hair, he finally looks up. Panting slightly, he takes in the sight of Enjolras, mussed up halo of curls and all, lying sprawled out on his couch, half-naked and completely drunk on pleasure. Enjolras is staring at his mouth and suddenly pushes himself upright and drags Grantaire into a kiss. Grantaire kisses him back, a little more roughly than he had intended, but Enjolras only presses himself against him and opens his mouth wider. Their state of undress is oddly mirrored and Grantaire would have preferred to feel Enjolras’ flushed skin against his, but he can’t be bothered with that now. He’s not done.

Breaking off the kiss, he guides Enjolras into a kneeling position and then turns him around. Enjolras follows his movements with a sigh and as soon as Grantaire is leaning over him from behind he changes his mind. He wants access to _all_ of Enjolras’ neck and shoulders.

“Shirt,” he mutters.

Enjolras makes a nondistinct noise, pulls his shirt over his head and, dropping it immediately, pulls his curls to one side. Grantaire laughs and cuts himself off immediately by sinking his teeth into Enjolras’ neck. Enjolras groans and moves forward until he his supporting himself with his hands pushing against the couch. Grantaire releases the pressure on his teeth and kisses his way down Enjolras’ shoulder. He opens his mouth against a favourite spot and drinks in the sound of Enjolras’ moans as he sucks until he knows the skin has begun to darken under his lips.

“I won’t leave any spots where anyone can see,” he whispers with a grin.

“I don’t care,” Enjolras pants. “I-”

He gasps as Grantaire’s hand slides across his bare stomach and between his legs again. His arms are shaking. In this position Grantaire has to leverage himself against the armrest of the couch with his other arm and he really wants it free for other things. Still, he keeps going a little longer, nipping at Enolras’ neck and shoulder from behind and stroking him so deliberately that Enjolras starts to make keening sounds again whenever he lets the rhythm falter.

He’s trembling even more now though, so before Enjolras’ arms can give out Grantaire pulls him to the side so they are both lying on their side. Now he has his other arm free to pull Enjolras firmly against his chest and Grantaire tangles their legs together to keep him in place. His hand never stopped stroking and Enjolras is nearly whimpering now. He throws his head back and Grantaire, taking the hint, kisses him as deeply as he can in this position. He can just reach high enough to with the hand currently _not_ employed in making Enjolras squirm to stroke his hair and for a moment Grantaire slows all his movements while he brushes the tangled curls from Enjolras’ forehead. Enjolras is shaking in his embrace, Grantaire’s legs still not allowing him enough movement to turn away from his teasing hand and slowly Grantaire lets his lips leave Enjolras’ mouth so he can hear the shakiness of his breathing.

“R…” Enjolras groans, swallowing thickly.

Grantaire quickens his pace but only just a little. Not enough. Not yet.

“R-”

There’s a whine in Enjolras voice and Grantaire could get drunk on that sound. He _is_ getting drunk on that sound. Again he speeds up just enough to make Enjolras exhale in stuttering gasps, but not enough to-

“ _Grantaire_ -”

The high whimper that nearly swallows the second part of his name makes Grantaire forget himself. His hand loses its carefully crafted rhythm in a hot flash of eagerness and Enjolras’s legs tense up completely. The noises spilling from his lips are very close to begging, but instead of teasing Grantaire grabs a handful off his hair and pulls Enjolras’ head back as far as it will go.

Enjolras keens.

Grantaire sinks his teeth into his neck.

Enjolras doesn’t quite scream, but the drawn-out, strangled moan at the back of his throat is one of the most beautiful things Grantaire has ever heard. He drinks it in, pressed against Enjolras in every possible way, until the tension drains from Enjolras body and he lies panting and spent in his arms.

Grantaire gently releases the pressure on his teeth and hands and Enjolras slumps forward. Grantaire chuckles. If they hadn’t still been tangled up, Enjolras might have rolled off the couch. His breathing, still quick and rather helpless, is the only sound for a time while Grantaire watches Enjolras with a dazed feeling wrapping steadily around him.

Finally Enjolras turns around and looks into Grantaire’s face. He’s gorgeous. Cheeks flushed, lips plump, hair a godly mess and the marks Grantaire left blooming purple just below his neck. Grantaire smiles. Enjolras smiles back, but it’s not a gentle smile. He moves forward until he’s lying against Grantiare again, chest to chest this time. His lips nearly touch Grantaire’s but not quite. The drowsy fog in his blue eyes has lifted and there are sparks in them again.

“Your turn,” Enjolras breathes, giving Grantaire a single second to grin before kissing his mouth.

There is no more studying for the rest of the day.


End file.
